


Blood for Blood

by skargasm



Series: Taming the Muse [21]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, LJ Prompt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:19:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2060820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skargasm/pseuds/skargasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was no question that there would be retribution – blood for blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood for Blood

The sound of blood splattering against the wall should have been gruesome. Would have been if the person slowly bleeding to death in front of him on the floor hadn’t deserved it so very, very much. He knew it said a lot about him as a person that this vengeance—this dark, bloody vengeance—was somehow necessary. He wasn’t a nice person—never had been, probably never would be now—and he was fine with that. He just hadn’t expected to find someone who would understand him that well and accept him the way he was. 

He cradled his obviously broken arm against his side as he managed to painstakingly drag himself over and sit back against the wall. Along with his arm, he knew at least three ribs were broken; judging by his headache he had a concussion although probably only a minor one if he was lucky. The fingers on his left hand were all broken and at odd angles which made cradling his arm difficult but he made do. Strange that he could be relieved that they had started on his left side and not his right—he wasn’t ambidextrous and recovering was going to be enough of a bitch as it was. 

The sounds of fighting seemed to be fading and he managed to open his eyes to check that he wasn’t hallucinating. The concussion wasn’t playing with is perception—his human captors were all but completely beaten. A sour smile twisted his lips—beaten didn’t even begin to come close to what the pack had done to them. 

Faceless, nameless hunters who had decided to kidnap the weak human partner of Alpha McCall’s second in command. Obviously hoping to use him as bait—what better way to trap a dangerous, experienced born wolf than to take and torture his mate? And practically a two for one deal, said human was Alpha McCall’s best friend. It had obviously seemed like a good idea. 

He was vaguely proud of the fact that it had taken five of them to capture him. One of that five would need to be buried if they could find the body as part of the clean-up operation; a second had taken great delight in repaying Stiles for the broken wrist by returning the favour. Of course, he’d had to wait until they’d tranquiliser darted him and strung him up in the basement before exacting his revenge, a fact that Stiles had wisecracked about even whilst suffering through the pain. Seven years as part of a pack that could and often did hold its territory through whatever means that proved necessary meant that he had quite a bit of experience in fighting through the pain. 

It helped that in the back of his mind he knew that it was only a matter of time until his pack came for him. A matter of time until his mate came for him and made them pay for every scratch and bruise. Blood for blood. His scent would have been heaviest on the ones who had inflicted the most damage. They were the ones Derek and Scott had targeted. Kira, Malia and Lydia would have taken care of the rest. The sound of Liam’s battle-cry had been all the warning his kidnappers had been given that their plan to lure the McCall Pack to them had worked. There would have been no warning that that very same plan had been their first and last mistake. 

He registered the shocked whimpers were coming from himself only after he realised he was in someone’s arms being carried out of the bloody tomb the basement had become. Tiredly, he turned his head, breathing in the soothing smell that made up Derek: cologne, hair gel, toothpaste, deodorant and that underlying animal tang. Derek was no longer wolfed out, green eyes staring into his with worry even as he hurried out into the darkness. 

“It’s okay Big Guy, I’m okay. You got here in time.” One last once over and Derek nodded, obviously aware that until they got home there was nothing else to be done. Stiles was only vaguely aware of the pack surrounding him and Derek as they made their way to the small collection of vehicles. A pat of a hand, a stroke through his hair, each of them reassuring themselves that they had got him back safely in their own little way. A familiar whine and he turned his head to gave a still wolfed out Liam.

“Don’t worry, you don’t get rid of me that easily you little bastard. Stop with the hairiness, your lack of eyebrows is freaking me out and it’s making me think you give a shit.” He was rewarded for his lame attempt at reassurance by the quick, relieved smile that crossed Liam’s face before the younger man disappeared from his line of vision, no doubt to help with disposing of the evidence. Instead, as he was lowered and gently laid into the back of Derek’s truck, his vision was filled with Scott’s worried face. “My Dad?”

“He’s fine. Lydia’s calling him now to let him know the rescue went well. Stiles, buddy, I’m so—“

“If you say you’re sorry, so help me I’ll get Derek to punch you!”

“But if you weren’t in my pack, you wouldn’t be a target!”

“Bullshit! If I wasn’t in your pack, I’d **still** be in love with tall, dark and surly which automatically makes me a target. And before _you_ start getting all angsty and guilt ridden, I am with you because I choose to be. None of his ‘maybe it would be for your own good’ crap—been there, done that, right?” He waited for Derek’s reluctant nod before concentrating on Scott once more. “We need to speak to Chris, get him to talk to the other legit hunters out there about all of these wannabes before it gets any more out of hand. End of subject. Now, climb in here and get with the wolfy pain-taking because as I recall your mother is incredibly stingy with the painkillers and that’s even before we get me to the hospital.” He winced as the seat was jostled by Scott climbing in next to him, a sigh escaping him as the tell-tale feeling of his pain being drawn out of him began to be overtaken by the mild euphoria that always seemed to follow it. Best legit drug out there if only he could convince Derek to do it without Stiles actually getting injured first—maybe even during sex? Crazy to think that sex with Derek could feel any better but who knew—

“Please God, will he pass out soon? If I have to hear about how fantastic his sex life with you is, I may just jump out of the car and Kira will be pissed if I ruin this jacket!”

“Shut up! You have no idea what suffering is until you’ve heard Malia’s blunt descriptions of sex with Lydia. Believe me, there isn’t enough mind bleach to deal with your cousin sharing those details.”

“This was—this was a close one Derek.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Derek sounded grim and Stiles struggled against the desire to close his eyes and go to sleep, determined to listen. Derek didn’t share his fears and worries about Stiles’ fragility very often and he needed to know what he could say or do to make him feel better. 

“Maybe—God, I don’t know! He’s my best friend, my brother, and it practically paralyses me thinking about what he went through! How the hell do you cope? How do you not lock him away to keep him safe?” Scott’s voice was soft and Stiles felt a little guilty—he hadn’t been aware that his best friend felt like that. They had just always thrown themselves into things together because that’s what they did—they had each other’s backs, whatever the circumstances.

“Because that’s not who he is. That’s not who I fell in love with. He’s the one person I will **always** trust at my back and he needs to know that I view him as equal—human frailty or not.” Scott must have nodded or something because Derek carried on speaking. “That doesn’t mean any of this was easy. If he’d died—if they’d killed him, I don’t want to think what I would have done, what I would have become.” Unspoken was the spectre of Peter and what grief had turned him into, how they had ultimately been **forced** to put him down because he was just too damn dangerous to leave out there. But it said something else about the kind of person Stiles was that he was perfectly okay with what Derek was saying. With what Derek had done back there.

This was his pack, his family and he would do whatever was necessary to protect it. Blood for blood. Now and always. Safe at last, pain almost completely gone which meant Scott had gone overboard as usual, Stiles allowed himself to drift off, knowing his mate was monitoring his breathing and vitals in case of any danger—always there for him. That it would take an act of God for anything to get to him when his alpha and his mate were right there with him, wouldn’t let anything ever happen to him. 

They’d killed for him and it wasn’t the first time; he’d killed for them and probably would be forced to do so again. And that was fine—that was the life he had chosen to live the night his best friend was bitten by a werewolf, when he had accepted that he was in love with another werewolf.

Blood for blood.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Taming the Muse Prompt : Splatter
> 
> Writing week : 206
> 
> Not my usual style at all - don't ask me where this came from!!
> 
> * * *


End file.
